


The Sun's Lover

by CockAsInTheBird



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Brat Steve, It's in Steve's poolhouse, M/M, Masturbation, POV Alternating, Pining, Poolboy Billy, Public Masturbation, Technically?, Yearning, close enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27408127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockAsInTheBird/pseuds/CockAsInTheBird
Summary: Possibly the best part of summer is getting to clean pools around Hawkins, enjoy the view of the rich and mighty lounging around in the sun, daughters and sons, mothers and fathers.And then there's Steve Harrington.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 103





	The Sun's Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Old old old stuff here!!! Like... from July old...

The sun sits atop of the sky in another unbearably boiling hot summer day in Hawkins, Indiana, and, unfortunately for one rich kid Steve Harrington, not even the AC unit can cool down his house enough for it to be livable.

Ice cream and cold beers by the poolside seem to be his only refuge, hiding underneath a large parasol from the unforgiving gaze of the sun above, Ray-bans pushed far up to shield him from the bright light of day, whilst also disguising how _longingly_ he truly stares at the new pool boy.

Sun-kissed skin, curls of gold, muscles carved by a lustful sculptor, sweat shining like diamonds that glide down over his bare chest, his taut abs, all the way to where his shorts _definitely sit too low_ on strong hips.

It's hard to know if it's really the sun or the view that makes it feel like Steve's body is about to burst into flames; if it's the dry summer air or the way Billy grins that makes him so _thirsty_.

They don't really talk past the usual niceties whenever Billy comes by to clear the pool of leafs, ensuring that the chemical levels are as they should be, and that the surrounding area is clean and nice to look at. Even in school it's barely more than bumping shoulders and talking trash on the court, although Billy always do seem to make it a daily task to get in the way somehow.

Yet when they're alone like this, a week or so into summer vacation, all that _delicious_ _fire and animosity_ just sorta runs dry. Could be that Billy keeps cool as to not lose his job at one of the only pools around, or maybe all the bravado was just a show of macho to assert himself as some kind of alpha male at school.

He had knocked Steve off of his throne as Keg King, which hadn't been that hard to do, because thanks to Nancy Wheeler's influence and Tommy's betrayal, Steve had gotten far too soft to even fight for that title, but maybe he didn't mind giving it all to Billy. There was some peace in letting go, and excitement in having it taken.

And as he lounges here, daydreaming about having _everything taken by Billy_ , he doesn't notice that that same guy approaches him with a sly grin going up one side.

“You know, you're not gonna catch a tan lying in the shade like that,” he says, skipping by any form of _hi_ or _hello_.

Even though Billy's wearing sunglasses, Steve _knows_ he's looking up and down his half naked body stretched out here, long legs that goes under all too short swimming trunks, the trail of hair leading up from the waistband, undoubtedly counting every single mole in view. He can practically _feel_ the eyes burn through him like he's a centerfold girl of a dear magazine.

“I'd turn lobster red in minutes,” Steve responds with and rests his head against the pool chair, maybe he flexes a bit, but mentioning that would be to admit Billy was watching.

Then he goes to grab Steve's beer, who doesn't object to it as he follows the motion.

“Maybe you should try wearing sunscreen like normal people.” Billy flashes teeth in an _oddly teasing grin_ , and brings the can up to take a big gulp of it.

Once he's satiated, let's out a refreshed “ _ahh_ ”, licks his lips _slowly_ – along the curve of his upper lip, then slams down the can again.

Steve looks at his empty beverage, up at Billy who's got this wide shit-eating grin, then back at the can. To where he extends his arm in a lackadaisical fashion, and pushes it off the table with the flick of his index finger. It sings out hollow as it clatters to the tiles.

“Pick that up.” He smiles.

Billy cocks a brow, grinning still as if he's not about to do as demanded by the son of his employer.

“As you wish, _princess_ ,” his tone barely dipping into something venomous and challenging, as he bends forward to pick up the empty beer.

When he stands again he runs his hand through sweaty curls to push them away, and wipes his brow with the back of his hand.

“Anything else?” he asks with clear feigned obedience. The can crumbles inside his fist as he closes his hand like it's no big deal at all, as if it isn't telling of his thoughts.

“Yeah why don't you go get me a new one?” Steve asks all nonchalant, yet shifts a bit in his seat at that unnecessary show of aggression. He half expects Billy to throw the can right at him.

It crinkles further between his strong fingers.

“Go get it yourself,” stern and now with more of a snarl.

Steve sighs and looks away to contemplate on _just how far_ he'd dare to push Billy, but the guy is all too easy to agitate it seems, and Steve doesn't feel like throwing a party with a bruised up face. So he stands up, notices the little jerk of Billy's lips as if he's won something, and walks up to stand next to him.

“Think you can clean up all of this shit before tonight?” he asks and gestures with his hand _dangerously close_ to the other's face; close enough to feel the hitch of his breath. “I'm throwing a pool party tonight and want it to look nice. Maybe I'll see you there?”

Billy turns his head to stare at Steve's far more expensive sunglasses. He doesn't answer.

When it's clear that he's never going to, Steve keeps walking. “I'm gonna go take a shower... your money is on the kitchen table.”

And although Billy fights it- struggles against the urge that's begging for him to turn around, he gives in to watch Steve walk away. His plump ass looks _so_ _fucking good_ in anything, especially those too small trunks, and it is _infuriating_ to him the way it carves itself into his memory; joining countless of other times he has looked where he shouldn't, gaze fallen too far down.

A sight that he remembers far more vividly than any bouncing set of tits, and the beer can he's still strangling whines again from within his frustration.

A sight that still sits there as he pours all the sloppy leafs into a black bag and carries it to the trashcan.

A sight that he can't stop thinking about as he rolls up the hose, gathers his net and goes to the storage closet of the pool house.

A sight that he has seen several times in the boys locker room. Naked. Wet. Soaped up.

“ _I'm gonna go take a shower,”_ Steve had said all casually, as if he isn't aware of how it goes hand in hand with all _those fucking images_ _that Billy sees every time he blinks or dreams_. It keeps him up at night. Keeps him _hard_.

Gently he closes the door to the cramped storage room, filled with cleaning supplies and inflatable pool toys. He breathes with forced calmness, hand still on the handle as he _struggles some more against those images_. When eyes open to look down, his angered gaze is met with tented shorts. And he takes a deep breath. Fingers unfurl from the door handle. Unties the string of his red shorts, which then falls to the floor.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groans out as his half chub hangs free. “ _Fucking Harrington_.”

Billy places his hand against the door and leans on it with all his weight, just in case Steve found a reason to come here, _which he doubts that shitty rich kid ever would_ , but the door doesn't have a lock, so better safe than sorry. He presses his head against it as well, eyes peering down, his right hand moving to where it is so _painfully needed_.

A harsh exhale escapes as he grabs his cock; runs his thumb along the line of a bulging vein, and he closes his eyes. He barely has to even try before Steve's there with those long legs, round ass, pink lips, doe eyes.

And he finds himself thinking of just minutes ago, his mind recollecting where each and every mole is that he has spent almost a year mapping out. On his cheeks, down his throat, over his arms, across his chest, high up his thighs.

Steve then turns to look at him, pushes up those expensive Ray-bans into his dark hair so that Billy can see how _intently_ those almond eyes stare directly at him.

Billy licks his lips before they fall open to allow out a grunt as he feels himself grow in his hand.

Squeezes his eyes tighter, and in his mind he walks closer to where Steve now sits on the edge of that yellow sun lounger. Billy brings a hand up to the side of Steve's face; runs his thumb across that pretty little mouth, pulls down at his lower lip till he opens up.

Jerks faster around his _throbbing erection_ and feels pre cum trickle down over his fingers.

He can almost imagine the slight sigh that would escape Steve as Billy then presses his thumb into his warm mouth, hard onto his slippery tongue, only to have those lips close around his digit and _suck_.

“ _Shit- ah-_ ” Billy moans as heat forms a whirlpool between his thighs.

Watches as Steve pops off of his thumb, lips now shiny with spit, and he keeps them open and _inviting_ , eyes staring up and blinking slowly with heavy lids. Billy doesn't have to move or say a thing before Steve leans forward to sink _all the way down Billy's impressive, girthy cock_.

Billy spits into his hand before continuing fisting at himself with furor, hoping to reach some semblance of how he imagines Steve's wet mouth taking all of him would feel like.

How he'd gag and groan at the base, lips pulled tightly around teeth, drool running down his chin, and Billy grabs him by the hair; keeps Steve's head still. Pulls out slowly just to _slam_ right back inside and hears how he complains, sees tears run down his cheeks, and does it all again. Starts _fucking himself_ into Steve's face with a pace matching his hand, _quick and sloppy_ , hears all the moans that echoes from within the throat he shoves his prick into, the grotesque and obscene squelching of spit and choking around his head.

“ _Oh fuck, Steve..._ ” he gasps; his ragged breathing and the slick sounds of his hand moving over _hardened flesh_ the only thing to be truly heard here.

As the first jolt of pleasure daring him closer to climax shoots through his spine, he bends further till the top of his head is pressed against the door, his hand there curling together to a fist against the wood.

_Steve, Steve, Steve._

The way his swimming trunks clings to him when he climbs out of the pool. The way he groans and pants on the court during training. The way he looks at Billy, sometimes glaring, sometimes _not_. The way _Hargrove_ sounds in his voice. The way his punches feel on Billy's cheek.

It's all so heavily ingrained in his memory, _suffocating_ , everything else so dull and muted in comparison. And it brings him over the edge, the thought of cumming down hot into Steve's throat as he chokes on Billy's climax, heat rolling through him as he moans far too loud, hips stuttering into his closed hand that pulls up his length with a harsh stroke to milk out every single drop he can.

Feels it run down his hand. Watches Steve swallow and lick his lips.

Then Billy opens his eyes.

He's still standing alone in the closet, his cum sliding down the wooden door, dripping slightly from his fingers to the floor, pooling between his feet. And he's the one to clean it all up now.

**Author's Note:**

> This is "technically" not finished, in a sense that I currently have 3½ more pages not shown here, but I might just have to finish that some other time and add a chapter two... who knows...


End file.
